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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29183490">a collection of moments</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerivous/pseuds/Kerivous'>Kerivous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friend Cameo :], Gen, Ghostbur Thinking, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rain, Storms, wow ghostburs really sad huh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:33:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29183490</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerivous/pseuds/Kerivous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>just a collection of moments and thoughts with the funny minecraft people.</p>
<p>amount of dialogue may vary, and updates are gonna be so very random.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tubbo &amp; Tommyinnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Thunderstorms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The rain thundered over the roof, creating a steady drum of noise under the sound of the jukebox. The soft sound of a music disc filled the small space, making everything feel closer than it was. It felt safe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy still remembered the last time a thunderstorm like this had roared over the Dream smp. It was a few weeks before Wilbur created L'manberg, back when the only thing Tommy did was go on adventures around the server with Tubbo and cause minor problems. The storm had built up steadily throughout the day, going from a slightly annoying amount of humidity to dark, towering anvil clouds rolling over the horizon. Then, all at once, the rain had fallen down in heavy sheets, shrouding the whole area in shadow. It had caught Tommy and Tubbo so off guard despite the warnings that they had to run inside to whatever building was closest to take shelter from the downpour. It had been loud, heavy, and absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It had been so wonderful and so sudden that Tommy cheered with every lightning strike, and laughed with every rumble of thunder afterwards. He remembered throwing his arm around Tubbo's shoulders, roping him into his excited yelling and resulting in both of them laughing in the midst of the storm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And, as the thundering of the rain on the roof eased, they stood outside in the downpour, watching the rain grow lighter and the sky begin to peer through patches of dark cloud, as the storm went from a roar to a whisper.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy hummed softly at the memory, his heart aching with the faint feelings that were connected to it. It was a time when he had very little cares and worries. When all he had to worry about was boredom. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stood up from his seat on the ground quietly, brushing the dirt off his pants. Softly, he stepped over to the door and opened it just a bit. Rain water flew in, forming a rapidly growing puddle in the doorway, but he didn't mind. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of rain and wet earth. He let himself stand and listen to the drum of the storm on the roof and the earth outside. Let soft sadness and nostalgia settle onto him as he simply let himself </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Why did this hurt him so much? Had that storm been a turning point, the last memory of being a kid, the last moment of calm before everything fell apart around him? He had so many questions, so many more feelings and memories and experiences compared to that time. He'd been through so much.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Calmly, he opened his eyes. He watched as the sheets of rain in front of him turned into a soft sprinkle. As the grass and flowers began to slowly spring back up, having been pushed down by the force of the storm. He opened the door fully and stepped out into the wet grass, eyes scanning over the plants before turning towards the sky, watching as sunshine pierced through heavy clouds. He sighed contentedly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, he was okay.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With nothing else to do, Ghostbur does what he usually does with his free time.</p>
<p>He thinks.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ghostbur didn’t really remember a lot. That’s just how it was, being dead and all. Becoming a ghost in the first place was a very particular process, one that was more of a fuzzy feeling than an actual memory for the spirit, and he was pretty sure at this point that memory loss might just be a universal thing for all new ghosts. Not that he had anyone else to base it off of. Well, except for maybe that man with the ram horns…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hummed softly in thought, one hand petting the blue wool of the sheep next to him softly. His thoughts were fast, and they didn’t stick around long. His mind flits from subject to subject quickly, making his train of thought chaotic to any outsiders who hear him ramble. Combine that with his memory, and you’ve got one confusing ghost. He didn’t mind, though. He was content enough floating from place to place, very much used to the feeling of blank space whenever he visited someplace that must’ve been important in the past. It was just how he was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was just existing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even if he couldn’t remember very well, that didn’t mean he didn’t notice how everyone else acted around him. He saw the pained looks from Tommy and Phil whenever he was visiting, saw the disappointment in Fundy’s eyes when Ghostbur trailed after him. He knew that they held very different memories of Wilbur than Ghostbur. Knew that Wilbur hadn’t been the best person, and actually had caused quite a lot of hurt. He didn’t remember those times personally, but he knew enough from the books he was able to read. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wilbur had been very invested with L’manberg. It was to him what Friend was to Ghostbur, something that he loved a lot. Something that he was very passionate about. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Memories of the revolution were bits and pieces, little moments and feelings and thoughts all puzzled together into a vague time period. It was a time that Ghostbur was able to dig and find happy memories. Wilbur was pretty okay then, it seemed. There was a gap after that, somewhere after the election. It did have memories there at one point, but Ghostbur had been informed that he remembered it wrong so now it was just blank. He might’ve read what happened exactly in a book, or maybe someone else had told him what actually happened, but it was blurry now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something he did remember, after that stretch of fuzzy nothing in his mind, was how it all ended. Wilbur dying had been a very happy memory. As Ghostbur said before, it was a happy time because Wilbur had been finally stopped, and no one had liked him. He had said it very proudly to Phil, pleased that he could remember something so important, but Phil had just looked at him odd. His expression had seemed strained, and he looked tired. So, so tired.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur frowned softly, his humming stopping. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That thread between him and Wilbur, despite how others had started to phrase the history they told him, was still very much present. He knew that Wilbur had been him and that he had been Wilbur, no matter how much it hurt for him to acknowledge that. He knew, and it seemed like the others forgot that he knew sometimes. After all, that’s the reason he had to keep blue on him at all times. Unlocking the memories of your past self is a very tiring and painful past time, and the blue helped him stay calm when it got too overwhelming. That and Friend, of course.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Friend lifted their head to watch the spirit, who in turn didn’t notice. He was too caught up thinking as his petting of the sheep grew still, his mind elsewhere and his eyes dark.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And, just as something else crossed his mind and the reminder of awareness seeped into his being, it was gone. It left, leaving Ghostbur quiet and a bit disoriented.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> He’d gotten too upset.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Calmly, he reached into his pocket and produced a small, translucent pile. A heavy sigh left him and he watched as it filled with a deep, rich blue.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me, in the middle of writing this: i do not know a lot but i am having fun</p>
<p>me after reading Ghostburs wiki, barely processing anything in it: this is not stopping me because i cannot read</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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